


To find a needle in a haystack.

by EdgyMcEdgeface



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alchemist Vato Falman, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Heymans Breda likes Edward Elric, Insomnia, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Vato Falman is neurodivergent, vato the not-so-skinny legend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27738223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgyMcEdgeface/pseuds/EdgyMcEdgeface
Summary: Knowing was different from experiencing - but both sides had their advantages.Falman gets transferred north, then bumped up to Briggs, and manages to work through some issues along the way.(sorry for not updating i lost someone very close to me recently and it makes writing anything worth publishing incredibly difficult)
Relationships: Heymans Breda & Vato Falman & Kain Fuery & Jean Havoc & Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Vato Falman & Roy Mustang
Kudos: 4





	To find a needle in a haystack.

It's been less than a week since he was transferred, and he was already being kicked out. Well, not 'kicked out', because that would be an unprofessional way to phrase it - professionally, he's being bumped up to Briggs. Truthfully, he's getting tossed around by people who have too much power and let it go to their heads. Apparently, General Armstrong caught wind of Col. Mustang's smartest subordinate getting sent her way and called dibs.

Falman tries his best not to be annoyed by it. At least there's a large chance he'll grow a bigger backbone up at Briggs. It's either that or die trying.

He's being led to Briggs by a much-taller-than-average man with the weirdest mohawk he's ever seen and a chainsaw for an arm. 'Captain Buccaneer' is an enigma of a man - ruthless and wholesome at the same time. Falman doesn't know if they're going to get along or not. For the sake of the health of his spine, he hopes they do. Though, the man does call him a beanpole on the walk up to Briggs, so that's either a testament to Falman's ability to bluff, or really telling about how observant the men of Briggs are. 

All of his jumpers, jackets, and baggy uniforms hide his physique well - a good thing, Falman enjoys being underestimated - and the scarf he's wearing only serves to make him look taller and thinner, hiding the fact he's one of the more buff members of his now ex-team. Staring up at the cold grey wall, his new home, Falman wonders if this is the gate to hell. In _Dante's Inferno_ , the lowest circle is a frozen lake. Falman is loyal to the Flame Alchemist more than anything else, he will not allow Briggs to freeze what little humanity he has left. He never expected to follow anyone other than Col. Mustang in to hell, but Falman supposes his boss is there in spirit.

"Well then, cub, welcome to Briggs! You'll get a more formal intro tomorrow, but for now just get your shit sorted out. Cause it's your first week, you're roommates are gonna be nice to ya, but don't expect that next week or ever from anyone else."

"I have to have _roommates?_ "

The Captain chuckled at the terror in his voice.

"Something wrong, cub?"

"N-no, sir." Oh Leto, why did he have to stutter now?

" _Sir?_ At least you've got manners."

—

Falman doesn't sleep that night - he rarely does, now - and distracts himself by sifting through the information he has on the Mission. How many homunculi are there, that they know of? What abilities do they all share? Is it alchemy they use to heal and shift forms? Alkahestry? A mix of the two? Maybe something else entirely?

If it _is_ something else, exactly how fucked is Amestris? The answer is, invariably, _very_.

That train of thought runs out of fuel by midnight, and he switches to anything else that distracts him from the fact he's in a room full of people who sleep with swords by their side and have no qualms over killing someone. And the fact that he _sort of misses Barry_ because that is a clear sign _he is going insane and he'd prefer to run from his problems rather than confront them right now, thank you_. After midnight comes 4:00 AM, which is the exact moment Capt. Buccaneer decides to slam open the door, and his roommates all jolt awake on cue, going through the motions of getting dressed in almost no time at all.

Falman doesn't need to get dressed - he never went to sleep and the fort is so cold that sweat isn't an issue - so he stands up, eyes drooping almost shut as they normally do, and watches blankly as they file out of the room. As he goes to follow them, a large, heavy hand comes down on his shoulder, making Falman nearly jump out of his own skin, which in turn earns a laugh from Capt. Buccaneer.

"Loosen up, cub! Come on, the general wants to talk to you."

Falman feels dread settle in his stomach - he's heard horror stories from Col. Mustang and Maj. Armstrong about the Ice Queen of Briggs. He's knows enough about Bradley and interacted enough with Grumman to know that people in high positions of power rarely deserved or worked for it, that the loyalty they inspired from their subordinates would fizzle out the moment another person who scared them more or treated them better came along.

But Col. Mustang spoke about the General in high regard despite their well-known rivalry, so she was likely 'one of the good ones', if that even meant anything. All it takes is one bad apple to rot them all.

Walking to the General's office felt a lot like being taken to his own execution. But the military couldn't have figured out that he's figured them out yet, surely - _surely,_ he wasn't going to meet the same fate as Brig. Gen. Hughes? At the hands of his own _boss?_ No, he's not, because Major Armstrong wouldn't speak so highly of someone on the Fuhrer's side, _would he?_ The door, made of shiny grey metal, has 'General Armstrong' carved into the middle in all capitals. Leto, even seeing her _name_ sent shivers down his spine.

Capt. Buccaneer knocks on the door for him - three harsh clangs that ring in his ear - and a deep 'Enter.' comes from inside. The door is opened, revealing the General sitting in a comfy looking chair, an Ishvalan man standing close behind her with a severe expression on his face. The General's expression is not only severe, it is …enraged? Or was that her regular face?

"Warrant Officer Falman. Sit." Falman wished Lt. Hawkeye or Lt. Breda was here to help calm him down, but they're not so he guesses he'll just have to ignore the rising nervousness in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Falman notices the office is _air conditioned_ and his fear for the General increases ten-fold - it must show on his face, as the other three people in the room all share pleased looks. 

"Falman, before we get started, why do you think you've been transferred here? Be honest. Nothing said here leaves the room."

Vato mulls over his words for a moment or two, trying to translate 'The Fuhrer's an asshole, you're a petty bitch' into a sentence that won't get him immediately killed.

"Fuhrer King Bradley thought my career would progress faster in the Northern Command Centre, General Armstrong."

"Is that so?"

She knows he's hiding something, can tell he's lying through his teeth. The nervousness develops into panic.

Leto is on his side today, it seems, as she changes the subject without decapitating him for acting like the worst Drachman spy in history,

"You'll be on icicle duty until all the necessary paperwork on you comes through and we can work around that. That should be a week if you're lucky - a month if you're not. Would you prefer to be on night or day shift?"

"Whichever is most convenient for you, sir."

"Day shift, then."

"Yes, sir." The general waves a bored hand to dismiss him, and he leaves without saying another word because he's _honestly too scared to speak._ Buccaneer closes the door behind him before he can even reach for it. 

-

It turned out 'icicle duty' means he has to stand outside in the cold for hours on end, knocking stalactites from the ceiling with a weird scythe - work one wouldn't think would be given to someone on their first day, especially after not being given the chance of having breakfast - but it gave him ample time to think more about the Mission, brainstorm ideas he could pitch to Feury whenever he did call, and work through some pent up aggression that had been building up recently.

Lt. Havoc being paralysed, Brig. Gen. Hughes being killed, and Barry's general existence were all large sources of said aggression, these past few months. The bitter cold help sap up the burning rage he'd kept expertly hidden away from everyone. 

…He never was told who was taking over the investigation of Brig. Gen. Hughes death. The thought doesn't hit him like a train, nor does it make his world come crashing down, but he does mutter 'oh, fuck' under his breath.

The logical part of his brain told him that Hughes was likely killed by someone under the Fuhrer's control - or worse, someone in charge of both the Fuhrer AND the killer - and that was why the investigation went absolutely no where, because he was directly sticking his nose in the Fuhrer's business. Well... the investigation went no where _officially,_ but Falman's been doing some extra research off-duty, and he **knows** he's getting _somewhere_ , because _**why else**_ would the Fuhrer feel the need to step in and separate him from the team?

And now he's up at _Briggs,_ the safest place in Amestris, where no one cares where he came from or why he's there (except for, apparently, the General), so now he can research and investigate all he wants and not have to worry about anyone trying to decode it.

He fights to keep a sly grin from appearing on his face. This was the best thing that could have possibly happened in this situation - even better than not being separated from the team at all, as much as he's still mad about it happening.

Now all he needs to do is get his hands on some paper, or at least chalk or coal, and then he can start practising alchemy again. Col. Mustang would be _delighted_ if he knew that Falman was practising the alchemy that _he_ taught him while under his biggest rival's control. To be honest, so's Falman.

Maybe it's because he doesn't trust Gen. Armstrong in the slightest. 

...It's definitely because of that, who is he kidding?

**Author's Note:**

> The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.
> 
> \- Sun Tzu, The Art of War.
> 
> I feel like that quote fits Falman well.


End file.
